Desperately Wanting
by VegaFayre
Summary: A short fic that explores the private longings of Kurt Wagner and Ororo Munroe.


Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, though I sorely wish that they did. I'm just borrowing them for a bit to put them through a whole lot of lovely angst. I'll return them unharmed (for the most part) to Marvel, Fox, and whoever else once I'm finished.

Author's Note: I wrote this fic in an hour, which is a first for me as my pieces usually tend to wind around aimlessly for months. But it had to be written-- I'm a recent and rabid convert to K/O shipping! This one might be called depressing. I'm not sure whether it'll stand on it's own, or if I should continue with short little vignettes to make it go somewhere-- like to a happier place. Depends on the feedback, I guess. *Hint, hint.* 

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He watches her, but he's sure she doesn't know. Watches her around the school as she glides through the hallways with her head held high. She is the pillar the others need to hold them up, a rock to support them. She does it all unflinchingly, putting her duties first, always first. 

Yet he has seen her falter, late at night when no one, save him, is watching. The slightest tremble of the lip, and low, dreary grey clouds gather in the sky. She always manages to pull herself together before anything more happens. It is in these moments that he finds her the most beautiful.

It is no surprise to him to realize that he is smitten with her. His devotion began when she laid her hands on him at the church-- perhaps even before. He feels he has known her before, somehow.

He cannot get her out of his mind, and does not want to. There are many things he _does _want, however. He wants to know what lies in the depths behind those guarded eyes of hers, and why she hides so much of herself. He wants to know secrets about her that she will trust only to him. He wants to know the feel of her lips against his; of skin on skin, bodies joined, intertwined; of her soft, pleasured whisper in his ear, "More..."

But Kurt Wagner knows he will never say these things to her. She is too good for him, too beautiful, too worldly and ethereal, too far out of his league-- if he even has a league. His religion frowns heavily on his carnal lusts, and he feels deep guilt over having such thoughts about this goddess-woman who has gained his respect, his trust, and his heart. 

So he watches, and wishes, and waits, desperately wanting.

She watches him, but she's sure he doesn't know. Watches him around the school as he keeps to himself, staying to the shadows and only speaking when spoken directly to. He still feels uncomfortable here, even after all this time. He is afraid that his looks will scare the others, but she knows that is not the real reason he holds himself back. He is punishing himself.

She has seen him pray when no one else is watching, holding his crucifix tightly as his rosary beads click, one by one by one. He murmurs his prayers softly, voice low and thick with feeling. Every once in a while, an expression of deep pain creases lines into his face. It is in these moments that she finds him the most beautiful-- almost painfully so.

Realization comes like the tide; not entirely unexpected, but still shocking when it hits. She was intrigued by him from the first time she laid eyes on him, but it has grown, changed into something much, much deeper. He reminds her of someone, though she can't think of who.

Thoughts of him flit throughout her mind, both when she is awake and when she is asleep. She wonders what grief lies behind his luminous, soulful eyes. She wants for him to confide in her the scars that dance across his skin. She wants to run her fingers over them, all of them, slowly, so that she may become intimate with every part of him, outside and in. She wants to feel his body pressed against hers so tightly that they are indistinguishable, his hands in her hair, murmuring breathlessly into the sensitive skin of her neck.

But Ororo Munroe knows she can never say these things to him. He is too real, too pure, too beautiful. She does not want to bring more pain to his face, does not want to cause another scar to remind him. Looking at him is torturous sometimes, he shines so brightly. She refuses to tarnish him, or herself. 

So she watches, and wishes, and waits, desperately wanting.

And so they pass each other in the hallways, like the proverbial ships late in the night, when neither can sleep for the thoughts of each other running through their heads. She smiles softly and nods her head. "Kurt."

He dares a quick glance at her face, then stares back down at his feet, but nods in return. "_Fraulein _Ororo."

A pause, and they stand there, each aching for the other across an indomitable gulf of three feet.

A moment, then another, and then they move on, inwardly kicking themselves for bowing to reasons that could rightly be called both good sense and cowardice.

Maybe someday.

But until then they watch, and wish, and wait, both desperately, desperately wanting. 


End file.
